


It's Too Late

by sasha_b



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik comes back to Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Too Late

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Es ist zu spät](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709555) by [eurydike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydike/pseuds/eurydike)



> Title inspired by One Republic's song Apologize.
> 
> I tried to not do angst for the boys, but I have to. So glad to be in this 'verse again.
> 
> Spoilers for DOFP.

_Goodbye, old friend._

_…Goodbye, Erik._

Charles is strong. Stronger than he wants to be. He blinks and touches his temple with two fingers, rubbing slightly.

Charles wants a drink. He wants the serum. He wants his legs to stop aching and he wants the voices to stop.

He sits in his chair, at the window, the sun bright and the sounds of new students reaching his physical ears as well as his mind, which is slightly painful, despite the stretching of that muscle he’s done over the past few months. 

He slicks his hair back with a hand – empty hand – and stares out the window at Hank, who’s helping a tiny redheaded girl up the steps, her parents frowning in the background. He knows they’re afraid of her, can’t wait to be rid of her, and he feels bile rise in his gut at the anger that the parents of an innocent child feel, intolerant of her differences. He closes his eyes and opens up –

She looks up at his window, not able to see him, but she narrows her eyes and tugs at Hank’s hand and Hank stops, the girl staring.

_I’m Jean._

Charles smiles.

_Welcome, Jean. I’m Charles._

She allows Hank to tug her inside, her parents hopping back into their car, relief spread on their faces and in their brains.

_Charles, why are you sad?_

He opens his eyes, and pushes away from the window, and with expert and painful control severs the connection.

*

_Goodbye, old friend._

_…Goodbye, Erik._

He jerks awake, sweating, his sheets tangled around his limbs, not feeling their bonds. He clumsily moves the sheets away, and levers himself into his chair that sits next to the bed. The window sash is drawn up and he glides to it, the wheels silent on hardwood floors, and Charles shoves the curtains aside, watching the front of the house, empty, no sound save the night animals and the brains he can’t quite totally shut off just yet.

Erik had left the helmet behind. 

Charles should have turned him in, should have let the government take him. 

Even though Erik hadn’t been the one behind the President’s death, even though Erik had been acting out of hurt and loss, just as Charles had been.

But why had Erik not been able to see the good in others, why had he only been able to see the darker side of humanity, always? Hadn’t he learned anything during his incarceration, or had he merely bided his time, anger growing, bitterness and resentment filling his head until nothing Charles had known was left?

Charles knows the answer to that question; he doesn’t need powers to know that.

_Killing Shaw will not bring you peace._

_Peace was never an option._

Logan had told Charles he and Erik both had sent Logan back, together.

When would that happen?

So many years wasted, fighting.

God, he wants some of the serum.

Lights snap on behind him and suddenly it’s not just him anymore in the room.

“You’re slipping, old friend.”

Charles schools his face and then turns the chair, shock and anger and everything else tucked behind the brick wall he erects internally hastily. He can’t lose focus like that again, ever. It’s way too dangerous.

“You said goodbye already, Erik. What do you want?”

Charles’ hands grip his chair and with supreme effort, he rolls forward slowly, gently, not letting himself leap out of the chair as he wants to and punch the other man again, or do something else he might regret for many many years. But Logan had _said_ they’d sent him back, together.

The wind blows the curtains and Erik purses his lips, crossing his arms, his uniform smart and covered in panels of bullet resistant material (not that he needs it) and his hair is longer than Charles remembers, his face shadowed with five o’clock stubble and he’s suddenly in Charles’ face, his hands covering Charles’ on the chair, his eyes narrowed and dark, dark and Charles tries to raise a hand, _freeze him_ , but Erik won’t let him and Charles _could_ do it without the touch, but it would require a lot of painful work and he just doesn’t think he wants to go to that place with Erik right here, now.

“I tried to apologize to you.”

Charles snorts a laugh. “ _That’s_ why you’re here? Come, come, Erik.” He turns his face and sucks his lower lip between his teeth. After all this time?

_I’m not in the mood for games, thank you._

“I don’t like to leave things unfinished, Charles. You of all people should know that.” Erik’s eyes are boring into his, eyes Charles knows way too well, and Charles could force Erik to let him go, but the warmth of Erik’s hands on his are too long denied and he hesitates, swallowing. “You are a hypocrite, you know that?” It’s not really a question. “You’ll leave anything behind that doesn’t fit your immediate purposes.”

Erik lets go.

Charles instantly shoves himself back, and turns to face the window. “Like me, for instance.” 

He wants to swallow the words the second he’s said them, but it’s too late and he shakes his head, the remnants of serum and years of drinking clouding his ability still, despite the months of being clean. He wants it, though. Wants the drowning so he doesn’t have to feel this or face it. “Why’d you let me stop you?” He turns his head slightly; just enough to see Erik slowly approach him.

“Because I know you.”

He laughs again. “So much so you’re here in the middle of the night, with me only, when there are others you owe apologies to.”

“You’re the one that matters.”

“I’m the – I don’t understand you, Erik!” The declaration rips from his mouth, and he turns, anger rising, many years of anger and _I’m alone, you abandoned me_ filling his powerful but rusty brain and he rolls right to Erik’s feet and plants his hands and shoves upward and stretches his power, touching Erik’s brain, and Erik lifts a hand, his eyes widening slightly and Charles is standing, eye to eye with Erik, his legs dangling, but he blinks and keeps one mental hand on Erik’s mind and his powers.  
Erik laughs.

“Now who’s the hypocrite?”

Charles leans forward and snatches at Erik’s face and drags it to his, pressing his lips to Erik’s with bruising force, this part not in his control, passion and anger and _you took her away, and you abandoned me_ powering his mind and his blood flow and he lets go of Erik’s brain, expecting to fall.

Erik holds him up with his own volition, his free hand threading through the back of Charles’ long hair, the strands wrapping around his fingers. He tugs painfully at Charles and Charles snarls and bites Erik’s upper lip, the taste of iron and Erik turning the snarl to a moan he’s only made a few times, only with this man.

The metal items in the room shudder and float and the window slams shut, Charles expecting the glass to shatter, but it doesn’t.

“I tried to apologize,” Erik gasps finally, jerking away, his fingers flicking, setting Charles back into his chair. “You wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t think you can apologize for this, Erik,” Charles murmurs. “It’s too much.” He tries not to breathe heavily, but he can’t help it. He resists the urge to touch his mouth.

Erik sits next to Charles’ chair, on the edge of Charles’ huge mattress. He is rigid but Charles can hear and feel his heartbeat. “I don’t know that I need to, now.”

Charles’ blue eyes widen and then fill, unwanted. He finds he’s crying way too easily, lately. Perhaps it’s an affect of no more serum, but he doesn’t know. “How can you say that?”

“You’re different. Powerful. You might have missed me coming, but I don’t think that will happen again. You’re changing yourself, Charles. Don’t deny it.”

“I don’t hate everyone.” _Just a few._

“I only hate those who try to oppress us. And you know that, and I’m not here to talk about that.”

Erik rises and Charles hasn’t seen him look this old ever. “I tried to apologize.”

Charles lets his eyes close. “I know.”

Erik’s at his feet, the uniform he wears dark and smooth and noiseless. His hands rest on Charles’ and Charles’ power flares brightly, feeling everything Erik has ever felt – it’s things he knows and things he doesn’t and he can’t stop the flow and he pops his eyelids open and gasps and tears spill over and slide down his face and all he can feel is the loss and pain Erik has felt for ten years and he knows this, and knows this man, but he can’t reconcile it with the things Erik’s done and he rips his hands from Erik’s and buries his face in them.

“You abandoned me.”

“Yes.”

“You took her away, and you abandoned me.”

“I know, Charles.” The words are like another a bullet, this time to his heart. No matter that he can feel, can hear Erik’s own destruction with them.

Charles raises his head.

Erik swallows but does not look away from him.

“But you’re not staying now.”

“No, Charles.”

“Why?”

“We don’t want the same thing, old friend. Charles.”

“We could.”

“You said yourself, we don’t.”

That day on the beach is permanently etched into Charles’ brain. He feels the pain of his spine and the pain of being left behind and he lets his fingers wind in Erik’s.

“I could help –”

“Don’t. Not anymore.”

Erik leans forward and kisses Charles’ mouth and then his forehead and stands, Charles’ hands empty, cold. “You didn’t let them take me. That means more than I can say.” He strides to the window opens it and leans out, watching the horizon, the coming dawn rosy and pink, a new day Charles does not want to face alone.

“I wouldn’t. I couldn’t have. But Erik,” Charles stops. What can he say?

“I am sorry, Charles. For what happened.”

Charles nods. He knows Erik is more than sorry, because he can feel it. Somehow, that makes it worse.

“I know you are.”

Erik doesn’t turn, and in a way Charles is glad. He doesn’t think he can look at Erik’s face again. “Goodbye, old friend.”

“Goodbye, Charles.”

Charles rolls to the empty window and closes it just as the sun rises, blinding him, forcing him to raise his hand to his eyes, Erik’s figure gone before he can even think it.   
Charles is strong, and he’s made it this far without the serum or drink or Raven or even Erik.

It’s a new day and he wants to crawl back into his bed and blot it out.


End file.
